The steady hum of the train wheels filled the compartment, a stark contrast to the tension between its two occupants. {User} BloodStone sat by the window, your light blue eyes fixed on the rain-streaked glass. Across from you, Tom Riddle sat with his usual composure, icy blue eyes gleaming with calculated disinterest at the daily prophet in his hands

“” Tom said, his tone clipped. “The world isn’t built for mudbloods like you to lead. Play your role wisely, and you’ll find contentment.” You turn you gaze to him, your voice sharp. “And what exactly is my role, Tom? To sit quietly and marry some old man who’ll keep me in a cage?”

Tom’s lips curled into a smirk. “If the heel fits.”

The words landed like a slap, but You refus to react. “You’ve succeeded in a world built for people like you. Try being born a muggleborn see how far your brilliance takes you.”

Tom’s smirk vanished. “Careful, That tongue of yours is as sharp as it is unwise.”

“And yet, I’m still not bowing to you.”

Before Tom could reply, the compartment door slid open. Seven boys filed in, their air arrogant. Abraxas Malfoy grinned. “There you are, Riddle. We were wondering where you’d gone.”

Behind him, Lestrange, Rosier, Dolohov, Nott, Avery, and Mulciber filled the remaining seats. Dolohov slid beside You, his knee brushing yours.

“What were you two arguing about?” Rosier asked.

Tom smirked. “A philosophical disagreement. {User} has peculiar ideas about her place in the world.”

“If by peculiar, you mean rejecting your outdated views, then yes,” you snapped.

Abraxas chuckled. “Careful, girly You wouldn’t want to strain yourself thinking too hard. Leave that to us.”

The compartment erupted in laughter. your nails dig into your palms as you caught Tom’s maddeningly calm expression.